28 May 2008

Enjoy Your Sky Pie Utah Philips

I still have not gotten used to all the motherfucking Mexican men here in Steepleton during the growing season. I have yet to see a Mexican woman up here lending their labour to our labour hungry farmers. I do not think the local farmers' wives are too keen on seeing good looking Mexican women bending over the crops. Hell, I might get a job on a farm if they start bringing Mexican women up here to do our work for us.

On Sunday Sonja and I saw four Mexicans pedalling their bikes across town. I said, "Look at those motherfucking Mexicans on their bikes. That's the way to keep people from driving cars - keep them poor. If you don't think that's what the rich motherfuckers think is the solution to global warming, you're not as paranoid about conspiracies as you should be. Keeping people poor is as much fun as making money to the fucking rotten bastards."

Sonja rolled her eyes and told me, "If Utah Philips dies and you learn to play the guitar and sing a little better there just might be a future for you outside of the fucking forest industry."

2 comments:

I like Mexican workers. They remind me of America before yuppies: A Utah Phillips kind of a place. They also have manners which is a pleasant surprise after a day dealing with the snarling, self absorbed, self righteous shits that Americans have turned into. They are also just as smart and just as horny as anyone else. That no women shit will not last. Also, as a bus driver, I love Mexicans. It's gotten to the point that native born Americans are ashamed to ride the bus. If you see a white person getting on the bus outside of rush hour, there's probably going to be some kind of problem. Mexicans ride the bus everywhere. They pay their fare. They're polite to each other and to me. I was starting to feel like a hall monitor for amphetamine addicts. Mexicans make me feel like a real bus driver again.

Ah. My wife rides a bike. I myself favour public transport, not least because i quite often cannot be fucked to get where i'm going by foot. I am usually polite, too, and habitually insert the correct fare for my ride.

Still. I have to concede, Mr. Beer N. Hockey, while I enjoy - thoroughly - watching my wife's ass as she pedals furiously away, the prospect of good looking women toiling and sweating in fields is not at all unpleasant. In fact, never mind joining them ; just pull up a chair and uncap a cold brew.

Nice blog. Even if It's taken me until now to work out how to follow a link on Blogger.

...desire is nothing but opinion maturing for action...

About Beer

Guiding (Bertuzzi) principle - The most desirable condition of the human species is to get together at the hockey rink and have a few beers.
The injustice and violence of men in a hockey rink having a few beers produced the demand for ushers.
Ushers, as they were forced upon men having a few beers at the rink became common place, a creature of the paying hockey fan's ignorance and mistake.
Ushers were intended to suppress injustice, but they offered new occasions and temptations for the commission of it.
By concentrating the force of the community, it gives occasion to wild projects of calamity, to oppression, despotism, war and conquest - sometimes beer sales are even cut off during the third period.
By perpetuating and aggravating the inability to get drunk in public ushers foster men's injurious passions, and excites men to the practice of butt ending and high sticking, breaking necks and in some areas to throw dead seafood onto the ice.
Ushers were intended to suppress injustice, but their effect has been to embody and perpetuate it.